


A Story Has Three Parts

by BlueClue182



Series: Ron/Hermione Single Word Prompts [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:35:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1846252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueClue182/pseuds/BlueClue182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet based on the prompts "Beginning" "Middle" and "End". Tracks Hermione's feelings for Ron from the beginning to the...end? Not really, I refused to kill anyone, so it's really just a comfortable ending point when their kids move out. Fluffy and short. Begins mid-Sorcerers Stone and ends waaay Post-DH.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione fell in love by accident, but maybe she can stop it before it gets too bad.

It's hard to pinpoint where it began. They met on the train, yes, but they didn't actually know anything about each other until Christmas time. It wasn't until after the troll situation that they started spending time together outside of class. On weekends. They ate meals together. They did homework together. Harry was there most of the time, too, except when he was at quidditch or meeting with Dumbledore or sneaking around getting in trouble. Those were the times Hermione felt awkward and fidgety and on edge. She went home that break and for the first time ever, she missed her friends. No, when she thought about it more, it was the first time she had friends to miss. Her roommates at school were okay, but she couldn't relate to them very well. They were all more than happy to talk about the boys they liked--and they all had thoughts on the famous Harry Potter and wanted Hermione to put in a good word. She would end those conversations by grumbling and turning over in her bed, making half-hearted promises to follow up and then forgetting in favor of focusing on school work. She headed home for the break with a stack of books too large by even her standards, with the intention of staying so busy learning that she'd have no time for other thoughts.

Harry himself was lovely, he kept her company while she did her reading and always remembered to invite her to things--but it was Ron that swam to the surface of her thoughts. She tried her best to push them away. They made her stomach turn over itself, and gave her a headache if she entertained them for too long. She told herself that Ron only spent time with her because Harry did. She could imagine a conversation between the two where Ron complained that she was strange and annoying, and Harry would insist he be kinder and that anyhow she's good to have around for help with Snape's essays. Even as she imagined the two of them talking, Harry faded into the background in favor of Ron's red hair freckles. She sighed out loud and it startled her, making her shake her head as though the thoughts would rattle and disappear.

She tried tucking all those thoughts away, maybe leaving them home entirely. They were shoved in her closet behind the jumpers that no longer fit her and the shoes that she'd worn down. Maybe the thoughts would get dusty and soon be forgotten. Hermione reminded herself that she was small and ugly and had horrible buck teeth. She told herself that the best friend of the chosen one, when he did get interested in girls, would have his pick of his partners and she would not even register on his radar. There were books to read and papers to write and what did boys know anyhow? She would get back to school and start classes again and be so busy that soon the boys would slip from her mind and Ron would become a blur in the background, just like Harry, showing up only when he needed homework help. She would forget all about the boys. The boy. Ron. Potions and charms and history and magical creatures would stuff her brain full and she wouldn't have space for the fact that Ron had all the chocolate frog cards. That he cheered for the Chudley Cannons. That his favorite color was orange and he loved hot chocolate with peppermint. She could sweep all that away and chuck it in the bin where it belonged. This would all be over faster than it began.


	2. Middle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-DH. Hermione's family is growing and its adorable.

Hermione was laying on the beach, stretched out on a warm picnic blanket in a loose fitting dress and an oversized sunhat. Ron was walking Rose to the edge of the water, holding her tiny hand in his. Hermione couldn't help smiling at how much smaller their daughter looked next to her father. Ron was tall and lean with long arms and long fingers. His freckles spread all the way from his forehead and cheeks down to the top of his feet, and Rose was sprinkled with a few herself. The day she was born, Ron had cried. He told Hermione he didn't imagine anything so small could be so wonderful, and he wouldn't let anyone else hold her. The memory made her smile even now, as she imagined it always would.

Today it was warm enough to lay out in the sun without a jumper, and cool enough not to need the sun umbrella. Perfect weather for a perfect day together. The beach was quiet, only a few others scattered around them but it may as well have been empty. Ron had always stood out in sharp detail in Hermione's mind, and now his shape was coupled with Rose's. If she closed her eyes she could still see them; every dusty auburn curl on Rose's head, every curve of muscle on Ron's arms, the exact angle at which their hands met one another. Hermione placed her hand on her swollen belly. Rose let go of Ron's hand before he could protest, running towards the waves, and tripped and fell face first in the shallow water. Faster than she could even blink, Rose was crying, and Ron had scooped her up, holding her close against his chest and rocking her back and forth. "Shhhh, shhhh it's okay. I've got you, sweetie." He turned and looked at Hermione with an apologetic smile. She told him not to take Rose to the water, that she would trip and cry--she was the clumsiest baby either of them had ever seen. But Ron insisted. He loved the water and so would his daughter, dammit!

Hermione shook her head as Ron waded back towards the shore with Rose high in his arms. Hermione rubbed her stomach. "Hopefully you'll be more graceful." she whispered to the baby, who was twisting and adjusting inside. Rose was never this squirmy, in fact Hermione spent almost the whole pregnancy anxious about how still she was. Ron took away all her books on the subject, chucking them in the bin and hosing it down with water, insisting she was going to drive herself mad. He told her to lay down, and he rested his head on her belly. "Can't you tell she's doing just fine? She's just tired. She's napping." He rubbed the sides of her belly and kissed her. "If you're really worried, I can have someone come over and--" "Please. I just want to see her." Ron was against muggle medicine, but he must have known this was a losing battle, because he sighed and rested once more. "ONE ultrasound. Just so you can relax. But trust your instincts, Hermione. Trust me." He took her hand and placed it on her stomach under his and that was the first time Rose kicked. Rose was his baby, his witchy princess and all the other cliches that go along with being a daddy's girl. The next baby was making up for all its sister's stillness, though, by wiggling around as much as it could. He could. Hermione was sure it was a boy. She rubbed along her belly again. "Don't worry, Hugo. You and I, we'll show them."


	3. End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Hermione are alone again (BUT IT IS NOT FOR SAD REASONS). Oh, and Ron has problems letting his kids go. Because of course he does.

Hugo was moving out. He'd finished school and he and a few mates had gotten a flat in London. Rose had moved out after school, too; she was off right now in Romania with her uncle, studying dragons and other creatures. Hermione was fixing sandwiches in the kitchen for all of them--a final meal before their baby bird finally flew the coop, as it were. She was proud of her kids, so happy they had lives outside of their parents', and couldn't wait to see what Hugo would do once he was on his own. In fact, she had conversations like this with him all through Hogwarts. His first Christmas break was spent on the couch, doing puzzles with his mother. Hermione made him hot chocolate with peppermint--his favorite, just like his dads, and asked him gently how school was, if he had any ideas what he wanted to do, what his favorite classes were. Rose was already firmly on the path of care of magical creatures, but Hugo had never shown a penchant for one subject or the other. Hermione found that exciting, though, like he was a little mix of Ron and herself. He was a tiny ball of surprises by which she was almost always pleased. Now he was grown and had the world ahead of him with nothing more than a few boxes of possessions, a suitcase full of clothes, and an internship at the ministry.

Ron didn't like to admit it out loud, but he had hoped the family would stay in the house the way he and his siblings had. He wanted their home to be the new Burrow, but of course the old burrow was STILL the burrow, and that would never change. Hermione simply counted her blessings that their children weren't off to fight the Dark Lord or get lost in the woods without a word for months at a time. She knew they would come home to her every chance they got. Rose sent regular letters with loose dragon scales and sweets she and Charlie had baked together. Hugo wouldn't write, but he'd stop by using the floo network, and they could meet for lunches in London and maybe soon he'd find a boy he liked and they would settle in and he'd bring him home for the holidays. But Ron wouldn't have any of it. He threw himself on to the couch--the first piece of furniture they had bought together. It was the same couch he had insisted Rose was fine, the same couch Hermione had done a thousand puzzles with Hugo. "What's so great about muggle London anyhow?" He crossed his arms over his chest.  
"Oh Ronald." Hermione chided from the kitchen. "Don't pout. Your son will be home soon enough."  
"If he didn't leave in the first place, he wouldn't have to come back home."   
"True, but think how quiet the house will be now."   
"Sounds miserable."   
"We'll have the whole place to ourselves, Ron." The pout slowly faded, and turned to a wide, goofy grin. She draped herself over his lap, arms around his neck. "Just think. No one else's schedule to worry about..." she kissed his neck, "...no one else to cook for..." his jaw, "...no one trying to sneak out at night..."   
"...or back in in the morning. Really who raised these children?" She pecked his lips.   
"Mmm. See? It will be positively lovely." Ron launched over her so that she was flat on her back atop the couch, and he was poised above her."   
"Ronald!" she gasped. "You asked for this with your talk of not sharing food anymore." She giggled as he lunged at her neck, kissing his way to her collarbone. He tugged at the bottom of her shirt, pushing it up over her stomach until--  
"Seriously? I'm barely out the door. Could you push the celebration forward just a LITTLE?" Hugo was standing in the doorway, shaking his head at his parents, both of whom had gone red in the face. But he had a wide smile as he headed into the kitchen. "MAYBE I SHOULDN'T LEAVE AFTER ALL, IF THIS IS WHAT YOU GET UP TO WHEN I'M NOT HOME!" Ron flopped down on top of his wife, laughing.  
"MAYBE NOT!" he shouted back. Hugo blew raspberries at his dad, who was getting up to make sure there were some sandwiches left behind.  
Hermione had never been happier.


End file.
